


Cat Nap

by djdaddybek (llyn)



Series: Otayuri Mafia AU [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dress Up, Kawaiilo Ren, Kitten, M/M, Mafia AU, Mutual Pining, Pet Names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 05:08:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12675036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llyn/pseuds/djdaddybek
Summary: “You gotta dress me,” Yuri says, slender hips lifting obscenely off the cushions.





	Cat Nap

**Author's Note:**

> based on [kawaillo-ren's mafia au](http://kawaiilo-ren.tumblr.com) & my AU day prompt fill for Otabek Altin Week

Otabek drags himself up the stairs to Yuri’s suite, feeling like roadkill. Could be worse, he figures, walking through the heavy doors to rap his secret knock on the bedroom door. He could have a bloodier job. But at this point the change of pace might be nice. If he has to help Yuri into a slinky body chain one more time he’s in danger of losing his cool.

“You look like shit,” Yuri says, unlocking the door to let him inside.

“You’re not dressed,” Otabek says. That might even be an understatement.

But Yuri huffs, insulted. “Yes, I am,” he says.

“Where’s the rest of it?” Otabek’s trying not to stare–so much of that smooth skin on display–but Yuri invites it, giving Otabek a cheeky twirl and a cheekier smile.

“This is my outfit, Beka. I mean, you’re always like  _Yura, why aren’t you ready_  and  _Yura, be dressed when I get there_. So I was like, I’ll just wear fucking  _less_  so I don’t take so long.”

“I don’t think so,” Otabek says, trying not to care about Yura’s shiny pierced nipples. Staring, yes. Caring, no. “Put on a shirt.”

“I have this,” Yuri says, brightly, producing the world’s tiniest fur vest from the tangle of his wardrobe with a flourish.

“No,” Otabek says, and rubs his temples, headache already swelling.

“You’re a lot of fucking fun today,” Yuri throws the vest down, ears turning pink under his soft blond braids. “What’s wrong with you?”

Otabek takes a breath. Don’t take it out on the kitten. It’s not his fault he has big, green eyes. “I drank a lot last night,” he admits, trudging to the fancy gilt couch and collapsing in an undignified heap. It’s nice to give into it. The misery. The agony. He rubs his smoke-stung, sleep-starved eyes. “I’m serious, though, Yura. Put a shirt on or–”

He opens his eyes. Yuri’s staring down at him, haloed by the chandelier, the high ceilings above him painted blue with lazy white clouds. Then he smirks, “Old Man Altin can’t keep up with me.”

“Don’t,” Otabek says.

“Can I help?”

Otabek has to sit up to get a good look at the kitten, suspecting a trap. “Help?” he asks, eyes narrowed.

Yuri’s looking back at him with the same squint, “Yeah, Beka: help. Like do you want a shot of vodka or like some medicine or sleep?”

“Sleep?” Otabek hates how his voice cracks on the word, but he can’t let his guard down. Sleep’s not an option.

“Do you wanna stay in tonight?” Yuri asks, and Otabek can see how he shifts his weight, excited by the idea. It’s a trap, then: get the victim alone.

“No way,” Otabek says. “Get dressed. I’ll sleep when I get home.”

“On what, a mattress on the floor?” Yuri sticks out his tongue. “Beka, my sheets are silk. C’mon, don’t be weird.”  
  


“And what are you planning to do while I sleep? Climb out the window? Steal my guns?”

“I’ll sleep, too,” Yuri says, sitting beside him and crossing one long, long leg over the other. He lays his silky head on Otabek’s shoulder, hair spilling down his jacket like wet paint. “Look at that bed, Beka,“ Yuri says. Otabek looks at it, to keep from looking at him. The bed is big and silky and black. The sheets are rumpled. It must smell just like him.

Otabek shrugs his shoulder to knock the kitten off, ignoring his bratty little whine. “I thought going out to the clubs was life or death for you, sweetheart,” Otabek says, watching Yuri pat his hair back into place.

“Maybe I wanna play house,” he says.

“Dunno many little house cats who walk around in these,” Otabek says, plucking a string of Yuri’s fishnets. It’s the wrong move. Touching him always is. Yuri hums and stretches, petting his own hair. He gets so much from these touches.

“Why don’t you pick out a better outfit for me, then,” he says, poking Otabek in the ribs. “Something for a cat nap.”

Otabek stands with a sigh and walks to his closet. It’s a cavern but Yuri sends Otabek in all the time. Something about Beka picking out clothes for him tickles the kitten. Otabek doesn’t mind, either, fingers lingering on lacy thongs and silky shorts, fluffy coats, little see through crop tops that slip like water through Otabek’s hands.

“Here,” Otabek says, throwing a shirt and shorts at Yuri where he’s stretched out languorously on the sofa.

“You gotta dress me,” Yuri says, slender hips lifting obscenely off the cushions.

“Yeah right, kitten.” He almost says,  _Why do you think I’m drinking myself sick every night?_  But it’s not Yuri’s fault. He’s dressed and undressed this doll too many times. Yuri drunk and trying to sneak kisses every chance he gets, whining as Otabek unlaces his corsets, unzips his boots, untangles his hair from straps, unclasps chokers and collars.

Yuri shrugs and starts to undress on his own, slipping his tiny shorts down so he’s just in his thong and wide fishnets. Otabek watches, leaning against the wall.

“So what am I supposed to wear? I’m the one suffering,” in more ways than one, watching Yuri tug his fishnets off carelessly, taking half the time it takes Otabek when the kitten’s drunk and giggly and Otabek’s telling himself no, no, no.

“How about nothing?” Yuri says, flashing a dangerous grin as he balls up the the fishnets and throws them at his head.

“I don’t think your grandpa wants to find me naked in your bed.”

Yuri shrugs, pulling on the little shorts Otabek brought him, “The door’s locked.”  

“No,” Beka says.

“We’re just gonna cuddle,” Yuri says, casual as can be. He holds out the shirt for Otabek with a full pout. “Please put it on me, daddy?”

“Told you not to call me that,” Otabek sighs and snatches the shirt from Yuri’s hand. He hadn’t meant to pick this flimsy thing out. Yuri’s pretty head must be full of bad ideas. “Lift your arms,” Otabek says. The kitten obeys, looking up at Otabek with those bright eyes as he slips the shirt over his head.

“Finally got a shirt on you,” Otabek says, and Yuri giggles. His fingers linger at the hem, high on Yuri’s flat tummy where his ribs show. He’s too beautiful, Otabek thinks. His kitten. This is a bad idea.

“Your turn,” Yuri says, and starts on Otabek’s jacket, pulling it off his shoulders before he can object. He throws it onto the sofa, careless, moving onto Otabek’s holster. Otabek pushes him away gently to do this part himself. Last thing anyone needs is a kitten with a gun. He sets it aside and Yuri’s on him at once, walking him backwards to sit on the bed, standing between his legs to unbutton his white shirt with swift little fingers. It’s all Otabek can do not to grab him.

“You must be really sleepy, Beka,” Yuri says, climbing onto the bed to drag the shirt off his shoulders and peel his undershirt off. “You’re not complaining.”

“I gave up,” Otabek says.

Yuri hums like this is the best news and starts to rub Otabek’s bare shoulders.

“Hey,” Otabek twists around to squint at the kitten. “Hands off. You promised.” He almost wishes he could storm out, but good luck explaining to Yakov that the kitten’s too hot for Beka to guard him. That the kitten’s begging to get fucked like a cheap whore and calling him daddy.

“But you said we could play house,” Yuri whines, even though Otabek is sure he didn’t. “Don’t I get to rub my daddy’s shoulders?”

Otabek groans and turns away, letting Yuri have his fun. It does feel good. Like heaven. If Otabek had a little angel like this at home he wouldn’t have a job. He wouldn’t even leave the bed. “You ever even given a massage?” he asks, worried that Yuri will think he’s enjoying this.

“No, daddy,” Yuri says. “I’ve had them though. I know what to do.”

“Typical brat,” Otabek says, but he’s falling all to pieces just from the touch. It’s been awhile. What he needs most is to fuck this little tart out of his system, but every time he makes eyes with some twinky little club rat he thinks of his beautiful, lonely Yura locked away at grandpa’s.

“Relax, Beka. God. I won’t hurt you,” Yuri says. What a lie. But Otabek tries to let go. It could be worse–they could be heading out for another night of the kitten in strobe lights, sweating and drinking and attracting every kind of scumbag. At least, for once, he’s got him all to himself, even if it is wrong, bad, criminal. Even if he could get killed. “You’re so sexy, daddy,” Yuri hums near his ear.

“Don’t,” Otabek warns him, but the kitten’s already draped himself over Otabek’s shoulders, nipple piercings rubbing against his back. “Just a massage,” Otabek says. “Nothing else.”

Yuri huffs, sitting up straight again to rub Otabek’s shoulder. “No fun,” he pouts.

“Sorry, baby,” Otabek says, and Yuri makes a happy little sound at that.

“C’mon, daddy, let’s cuddle,” Yuri says, tugging Otabek’s shoulder.

He doesn’t have to be told twice, kicking off his shoes and laying down right where he is. Yuri laughs, “No, get  _under_  the covers. And your pants–”

“Keeping them on.”

Yuri whines, tugging the covers up over Otabek where he lays like a log, and slipping under the sheets beside him. Otabek was right, the fluffy soft pillows smell so strong of Yuri he groans. The real thing, meanwhile, pushes on him, whining, “Roll over.”

Otabek does, and Yuri tucks under his arm right away, one leg thrown over Otabek’s, little paw resting on his chest.

“See? Jus’ cuddling,” Yuri says, sounding proud. But his breath tickles Otabek’s neck and Otabek’s cock decides right then it’s not just cuddling at all. He slips a hand into Yuri’s hair, willing himself to calm down, to fall asleep, but Yuri starts to trace nonsense patterns on his chest, saying, “I want tattoos like you one day.”

“Are you gonna cuddle, baby, or are you gonna be bad?” Otabek asks, tugging Yuri’s head up by the hair so he can raise his eyebrows.

Yuri bites his bottom lip, pretending to think. “Bad,” he decides.

Otabek sneaks his hand under Yuri’s cropped shirt to rub his pierced nipples. The kitten’s so tiny Otabek can play with both at once, little gumdrops hard under his pinky and thumb.  “Better think harder. Daddy can be bad, too, and we both know you can’t handle it.”

Yuri’s mouth falls open, flush hitting his cheeks violent as sunrise. “Beka–” he whines, hiding his face against Otabek’s shoulder.

“What? Embarrassed already?”

Yuri only moans. Otabek twists his hand in his hair, pulling the kitten’s face up to look at him. “Bad kittens get punished, baby, I’ve told you that,” Otabek says, blood hot and heart pounding loud in his ears. He’s suffered enough. Now it’s Yuri’s turn.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @commandantllyn
> 
> or on tumblr at [djdaddybek](http://djdaddybek.tumblr.com)


End file.
